


Lost in Admiration (could I need you this much?)

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feminization, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Phone Sex, Podfic Welcome, Porn with Feelings, Shane in Heels, Shane in Make-up, Shane in a Skirt, Shane just wants to be pretty sometimes, Size Kink, Strength Kink, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Shane's always wanted to be comfortable in heels, he's just never had the opportunity.Now he does.





	Lost in Admiration (could I need you this much?)

**Author's Note:**

> hoo boy. well, i'm sure by now a lot of us have seen the [why don't men wear heels video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2UhbfXlCkc) which blessed us w/ great shane-in-heels content. that vid inspired this fic, as well as the shyan scavenger hunt. this is a second fill for the prompt 'size kink.' this fic can also be seen as a sequel to [a kiss to a thrill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15707067), but you don't have to read that to understand this 
> 
> anyway! big thanks to hannah for beta'ing, as always. and big thanks to everyone in the shyan discord for being so encouraging! 
> 
> think that's enough outta me. enjoy!

“Can I keep these?” Shane asks once the cameras have stopped rolling.

Ryann looks over. “What? _Those_?”

Shane nods a little sheepishly, turning the heels over in his hands. “I mean, yeah. They fit nice. They’re pretty cute.” His ears are burning; even though he knows Ryann and Fernando would never judge him or mock him—aside from a little good-natured ribbing—he’s still embarrassed to even ask.

Ryann _tsk_ s and holds out his hand. “Oh, Shane,” he says, disappointed, as he takes the heels from him.

Shane tries to keep the humiliation off his face, but then Ryann’s hand is slapping onto his shoulder squeezing.

“I’m sure we can find something better for you. These,” he shakes the heels in his hands, “aren’t your style at _all_.”

Shane swallows. “Yeah?”

Ryann nods, looking almost deadly serious. “C’mon, you got anything going on? Let’s go get you a pair of your own.”

Shane hurries to stand and cracks his knee against the table. Sharp pain races through his knee and he falls back into his seat. He bends at the waist and hisses in pain, aware of Ryann laughing at him. He thinks he hears a mutter of “so eager” but he doesn’t really pay attention.

Eventually, the laughter dies down and the pain in Shane’s knee fades.

“Okay, Ally McBeal,” Ryann says, holding out his arm to Shane. “Let’s do this.”

Shane stands on somewhat shaky legs, loops his arm with Ryann’s, and lets the other man guide him out of the office.

 

 

That night, Shane stares at the heels in his hands.

He hasn’t tried them on since the store but he hasn’t stopped staring at them since he got home. Ryann had cheered him through strutting along the aisles of the shoe shop and had caught him when Shane started to tip over. He’d even offered to help pay for them, since a pair of large, sleek, black heels weren’t exactly _cheap_ (and Ryann had refused to let Shane skimp on quality, something he appreciates). Shane had drawn the line at Ryann pulling out his wallet, though.

So now, Shane stares at the heels. He runs his fingers over the sides and down the length of the heel. He swallows around the lump in his throat and thinks back to how it felt to wear them in the store. At first, he’d regressed back to his giraffe-walk, and it had been so overwhelming that Shane almost called it quits. But Ryann wouldn’t let him. Soon enough, with Ryann’s eager encouragement, Shane had found his balance and felt _powerful_ again. He held his shoulders back, his spine straight, and he towered over people and felt _good_ about it.

He lets out a shaky sigh, a mixture of delight and anxiety.

He’s never minded his height. He likes being tall; he thinks it suits him—lanky limbs and a lanky frame to stick them to. He’d look _more_ ridiculous if he was shorter.

That said, his height has always been what held him back from trying heels. Because he’s always wanted to—he’s seen the Try Guys do it, even _Ryan_ , and had watched with envy. Even seeing someone like Keith strut around in heels hadn’t been enough to assuage Shane’s anxiety. He always thought he’d look ridiculous in heels, out of place, gargantuan and hideous.

Now, though, as he thumbs over the smooth suede of the heels, he knows that’s not true. He looked _good_. He _felt_ good.

He gnaws at his lower lip, then sets the heels on his coffee table. He stands up from the couch and stares at the heels for a moment longer before making up his mind. He makes a beeline for his bathroom and digs around under the sink until he finds what he’s looking for: shaving cream and razors, ones Sara left behind before their split.

He swallows his nerves and reaches over to get a bath going. If he’s going to do this at all, he might as well do it right.

 

An hour and a half later, Shane knows two things: he’s not nearly as flexible as he should be, and anyone who shaves their legs on a regular basis should be given an _award_ , because that shit is hard.

He steps out of the tub painfully aware of the wind against his legs, of how his fingers are pruned and his skin feels a little dry. He towels off while standing on his bathmat, then slings the towel around his waist and meanders to his bedroom. He moves slowly, leisurely, putting off what he’s going to do while also building anticipation.

Eventually, he’s ready: dressed in a soft, well-worn tee and a pair of boxer briefs that don’t even reach his mid-thigh, he wanders back into his living room. He picks the heels up off the table and steps into them with only minimal wobbling. It’s a little harder to walk around on his old, shag carpeting, but he manages. Before long, he’s striding around, through his kitchen, to the bathroom and back to the living room.

He likes the click of his heels on the tiled floors in his apartment; he still struggles with carpet, but it only makes him more determined to get it right. He tries swaying his hips and holding his shoulders back, and he thinks distantly to old reruns of _America’s Next Top Model_ he used to catch on television now and then.

When his legs start to shake from the strain of the heels, he wanders back to his living room. He falls onto his couch and grabs his phone from the coffee table. He puts his feet up, crosses them at the ankle, and pulls up his camera on his phone.

A flash of light later, he’s typing out a message to Ryan with shaking fingers.

**to [ryan]  
** _what do you think?_

Then he tosses his phone to the other end of the couch and pretends he didn’t just do that. Confident or not, that still feels like a lot—dirty in some way, even though it’s a perfectly innocuous text. He scrubs his hands over his face for a second, groaning, but before he can sink too dip into a pit of despair and regret, his phone is chiming. He looks over cautiously, worry growing with each additional text that comes in. It’s practically ringing off the hook.

He gives in and plucks his phone from the cushion and watches as the texts bombard his poor phone.

**from [ryan]  
** _holy shit_

**from [ryan]  
** _are those yours????_

**from [ryan]  
** _is this for a video_

**from [ryan]  
** _how tall do they make you?_

And more, more, more texts come in, like Ryan can’t help himself and just keeps sending them as the thoughts come to him. Smiling to himself, Shane unlocks his phone and hits _call_.

It barely rings before Ryan is picking up. _“Hey.”_

“Hey,” Shane says. “So, you like ‘em?”

Ryan lets out a whooshing breath. _“Christ, Shane,”_ he says as his voice cracks.

“I think I’m somewhere around six-seven with them on, I didn’t actually measure.” Because he’s a little scared to, unsure of the number he’ll see. He’s almost tempted to now, knowing how Ryan feels about it, though.

 _“Jesus.”_ Ryan gulps noisily on the other end of the call. _“Uh, and they’re yours?”_

“Yeah, paid for them myself and everything.” Shane sinks into the couch and extends his leg outward. His skin is a little red and splotchy from his attempt at shaving, but if he ignores that—well, he looks downright pretty like this.

_“You gonna wear ‘em to work?”_

Shane’s breathing catches in his chest. “Uh, I don’t—I don’t think so. Not yet.”

 _“Yeah, sure, of course.”_ A pause, then Ryan takes a deep breath. _“Will you wear them for me?”_

Shane bites his lower lip hard enough to hurt. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thinks. “What kind of girl do you take me for, Bergara?”

Ryan lets out a disbelieving laugh. _“Mine, that’s what. You’re_ my _kind of girl. And you’re mine. Fuck, this sounded way hotter in my head.”_

Shane’s laughing but he’s half hard in his underwear. “I am yours,” he says softly. He slides his legs together where he sits and shivers at the feeling of smooth skin on skin.

Ryan’s frustrating rambling stops instantly. _“Oh. Good.”_

“And I’ll wear them for you.” Shane curls his legs close and admires the jut of his ankle bone, how all his skin looks soft and smooth as it leads into the edge of the shoe. “Anything else?”

Ryan’s breathing heavier now. _“How far do you want to take this, Shane?”_

“As far as possible,” he replies immediately. “I’ve thought about it before. About—about you—and— _fuck_ , I can’t even think straight right now.”

_“Tell me what you’ve thought about. Let’s start there.”_

Shane nods. “I—I’ve thought about you calling me stuff like…”

 _“Like my girl, my gal?”_ Ryan asks with a huff of laughter that clearly stems from nerves rather than amusement.

“Yes,” Shane breathes. He clenches a hand in his shirt and squirms where he sits. “And—?”

 _“Would you wear a cute little get-up for me?”_ Ryan’s speaking without waiting for an answer. _“I could slide my hand under your skirt at the dinner table. Could have you ride my face while you hold your dress up and watch.”_

“Ryan,” Shane gasps. He drops his free hand to press at the front of his briefs, against his stiff cock. “Yes, yes to all of that.”

 _“Gonna pick you up bridal style, cuz I know you wanna be carried and—oh, fuck, Shane, would you wear panties?_ ”

Shane whimpers. “Yes, if you want me to. I want to.” He doesn’t know where he can go to find those in his size, but something tells him _someone_ at Buzzfeed will know.

 _“Fuck.”_ Ryan draws out the sound. If Shane strains his ears, he can catch the sound of skin slapping on skin. _“I want you all dolled up for me and then I want to fucking wreck you.”_

“Do it,” Shane pleads. He squeezes his thighs together as pleasure courses through him. His eyes fall shut and he can see it happening behind his eyelids: his eyes would be done up with liner and mascara, maybe some shadow if he can figure it out. Lipstick staining his lips and blush high on his cheeks. Foundation, to cover up the little blemishes he looks at every day. He smiles to himself, and his mustache tickles at his skin, and he immediately resolves to shave.

 _“I’m going to push your panties aside and just slide into your tight little hole,”_ Ryan says, gasping for air. _“Gonna spread your legs and make you keep the heels on, throws your legs over my shoulders—fuck, I bet you’ll feel so fucking soft.”_

Shane listens as Ryan comes. He still hasn’t reached inside his underwear yet, too on edge and too eager to listen. Ryan keeps mumbling nonsense under his breath as he comes, all of it the same filthy variety as he’s been spouting for minutes now. He pants and gasps for air and it’s all a little staticky over the phone, but Shane’s dick throbs with want.

_“Shane?”_

“Yeah, I’m here,” Shane replies. His voice shakes. He’s so hard he can barely stand it.

 _“Oh, baby,”_ Ryan coos gently. _“Why’re you torturing yourself, baby girl?”_

Shane inhales sharply.

_“I bet you’re so wet already.”_

Shane nods and whispers, “yeah, so wet, for you,” and then he’s shoving his boxer briefs down and curling a hand around his cock. His hips jump to meet the touch and his head falls back on the couch. “Not gonna last, Ry.”

 _“That’s okay,”_ Ryan tells him in the same even tone. _“Come for me, sweetheart. Do it, baby girl, come on.”_

Shane bites down on a squeal as he comes, letting bursts of high pitched whines escape from his clenched teeth instead. He writhes on the couch, breathing hard, until his hand is a mess and his cock is going soft in his lap.

“Ryan?”

 _“I’m here, Shane,”_ Ryan says. _“You’re so fucking hot.”_

Shane presses his smile against the couch cushion as he twists, getting comfortable despite the mess on his hand and lap. “You really wanna—wanna do that?” He asks in an impossibly small voice.

 _“Of course I do,”_ Ryan replies easily. _“Look, I know you think it’s hot that I’m smaller than you but stronger than you and all, but you being tall? It’s the same way for me. I_ love _how tall you are.”_

“Oh.”

 _“You being even_ taller _, and_ pretty _,”_ Ryan pauses, _“well, prettier than_ usual _?”_ He lets out a half-laugh, half-sigh, a cliched, dreamy sort of sound. _“That’s pretty much the dream right there.”_ Rustling sounds over the phone, presumably as he tucks his dick away.

“Thank fuck,” Shane says, heart hammering with relief. “Seriously.” He toes off the heels and lets them fall to the floor. Faintly, his feet ache, but it’s a good soreness.

Ryan laughs. _“You thought I’d, what,_ not _be into that?”_

“I dunno!” Shane shouts. “Kink tomato or whatever.”

Ryan’s laughing even harder now. _“I hate that I know what that means because of you.”_

Shane shrugs. “Whatever,” he says, but he’s grinning.

 

 

 

Shane stares at himself in the mirror. He almost doesn’t recognize himself—almost, but not quite.

His nose is impossible to forget, and his hair isn’t quite long enough to change the shape of his face; he’s still angular, sharp lines and high cheekbones. His features are softened by the dusting of makeup on his cheeks, the taupe-pink gloss spread over his lips. His hair is softer, too, free of product. He’s shaved, and the lack of a mustache certainly helps complete the picture; but if he drags his hand over his cheek against the grain, he can feel the beginnings of stubble starting to flourish.

A knock on the bathroom door startles him from his thoughts. “Shane?”

“One sec,” Shane replies. He turns back to his reflection and swallows. His adam’s apple bobs and it’s distracting, but Shane quickly drops his gaze to his collarbones, to the off-the-shoulder black top that’s hanging from his body. It’s loose and flowing, soft to the touch, cuts off just past the waistline of his skirt.

He turns and admires the line of red and black plaid skirt that skims over his thighs. It’s not tight but it doesn’t flow like his blouse; if his strides are too long, it rides up obscenely high. It almost gets high enough to reveal the tease of black lace that’s _barely_ holding his cock in place.

“Shane, seriously, if you’re having second thoughts...”

Shane swallows again and walks over to the door, heels clacking on tile, in four steps. He wrenches open the door to find Ryan waiting for him on the other side.

Ryan’s eyes start at his chest, at his natural line of sight, and then slowly climb up. His eyes widen as he goes, until his head is tilted back far enough to meet Shane’s gaze. “Holy shit,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Shane says, voice quiet and shy. “How’s it look?”

Ryan’s gaze drops again to start at the bottom. “Fuck,” Ryan says in a strangled tone. He looks Shane’s body up and down slowly, like he’s drinking in every single detail. “You look incredible, babe.”

“Yeah?” Shane takes a hesitant step forward and Ryan’s hands come to his hips naturally. Ryan’s fingers dip under his shirt and rub along his hips.

“Can’t believe you managed to find this,” Ryan says, dragging his hand to pluck at the hem of the skirt. “It suits you.”

Shane lays his arms over Ryan’s shoulders. “Glad you think so,” he murmurs. They don’t kiss, but Ryan’s eyes drop to Shane’s painted lips and stare. “So,” Shane says slowly. “Dinner?”

“Do we have to?” Ryan asks.

Shane smirks. “Need to keep our energy up.”

Ryan groans but nods. He’s looking down Shane’s body again, to the skirt, to the heels. “Fine, yeah, okay.”

“It’s not like we have to go very far,” Shane points out. He nudges Ryan in the direction of the kitchen. “We don’t even have to drag it out. Eat, clean up, done. Time for sex.” Shan shrugs and feels the top slide off his shoulder a little more; he’s keenly aware of the way Ryan zeros in on it.

“Fuck that, you look great. What kind of boyfriend am I if I make my girlfriend bail early on dinner to fuck?” Ryan’s still raking his gaze over Shane’s body like a predator.

Shane raises an eyebrow. “You literally just wanted to bail on dinner _completely_ a few seconds ago.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and links their fingers, even though it’s a short walk to the kitchen table. “Okay, but it’s like. If we’re already here,” he gestures to the meal laid out, “we might as well enjoy it, right? If we skip it entirely, then we’re not missing anything. I dunno. It made sense in my head.”

Ryan lets go of Shane’s hand to pull out his chair and makes a show of leering at Shane’s body as he moves to sit. “Your ass looks fantastic,” Ryan says, almost absently.

Shane laughs as he sits down, hands under his skirt to keep it from riding up. Ryan sits beside him and their knees bump under the table. They stare at each other for a moment, and Shane is suddenly all too aware of the gloss on his lips, the eyeliner and mascara staining his eyes. He feels a little ridiculous, but _right_ , too.

“You do look incredible,” Ryan says. “Not just sexy, but beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Shane looks down at his dished-up plate. His cheeks are burning. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The black button-down Ryan’s wearing is plain, simple, but stretches around his biceps. It’s a keen reminder of his strength, just like the tight cut of his gray slacks is a reminder of what he’s packing.

Ryan preens, tugs at the adorable red bowtie at his neck. “Just for you, baby.”

Shane laughs, and just like that, the tension breaks. It’s not awkward, and even the lingering sexual tension fades a bit. It’s easy to eat and chat about their day, despite the fact they were together for most of it. It’s almost like any other night they’ve had together, except every so often Ryan’s foot will brush Shane’s bare ankle, and his blood pressure will skyrocket.

Eventually, when their plates are cleared and Ryan has set them to soak in the sink, the tension returns. Shane stands and holds out a hand to Ryan, who takes it quickly.

“You ready?” Ryan asks.

Shane nods. “Are you?”

“I’ve _been_ ready,” Ryan says, puffing out his chest and voice full of bravado. He steps around Shane and starts to pull him along, gently. “Should we throw a movie on first? I could pull that yawn-and-stretch move, a classic.”

Shane shakes his head with a laugh. “No, no, we don’t need to do that.” He’s been half hard since the last time Ryan’s leg brushed his under the dinner table. “I’m ready to take this to the bedroom if you are.”

“Fuck yes.” Ryan nods eagerly. He lets go of Shane’s hand and turns to him. “Can you bend your knees a little bit?”

Shane complies, and even though he knows it’s coming he still lets out a shout of surprise as Ryan scoops him into his arms. He flails for a second before throwing an arm around Ryan’s shoulders for balance. Ryan grins at him and hefts Shane in his arms, rearranging him.

“Good?” Ryan asks.

Shane nods. Any words he wants to say are stuck in his throat; he’s dizzy, from the sudden shift in height and the way all the blood in his body feels like it’s funneling straight into his dick.

Ryan walks to the bedroom, carefully maneuvering around corners so that Shane doesn’t hit his head on anything.

“You’re so beautiful, babe,” Ryan murmurs as they approach the bed. “Can’t wait to wreck you.”

A pitiful, pitchy noise escapes Shane’s glossy lips.

“Yeah, I know, baby. You’re so desperate for it, huh?”

“Ryan,” Shane moans. He tries for admonishing but only comes out cracked, frayed at the edges like his control. They’re standing at the foot of the bed and Ryan still hasn’t set him down. In fact, Ryan isn’t even looking at the bed; he’s staring at a nearby patch of wall that’s free of pictures or posters or anything. “Ryan,” Shane says again.

“I wonder if I could press you up against the wall, get your legs over my shoulders, and have you ride my face,” Ryan says, almost as if he’s speaking to himself.

“You probably could,” Shane answers. “But I’d really like you to fuck me tonight.”

Ryan turns to look at him, and grins. “Anything for my best gal.”

Shane snickers. “Who are you, Steve Rogers?”

“Could be,” Ryan says. He flexes his arms where they’re curved around Shane’s body. The strain of muscles against Shane’s back takes his breath away. “Does that make you Peggy?”

Shane feels his cheeks warm up. “Sure.”

“My best gal, then,” Ryan says plainly. “Gonna put you on the bed now, okay?”

Shane nods, and shivers as Ryan effortlessly lays him on the covers. It takes a little bit of a stretch to get Shane laid out without Ryan clambering into bed with him, but they manage. Flat on his back, he stares up at Ryan where he stands at the foot of the bed.

“God,” Ryan breathes. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Shane taunts. He watches with slightly wide eyes as Ryan pulls his phone from his back pocket and does just that. There’s a flash of light, the sound of a shutter clicking, a satisfied hum. “Ryan!”

“You said!” Ryan says with a laugh, but he tosses his phone onto the dresser behind him. He finally leans on the bed and starts to crawl over Shane. “I don’t know what I want to do first,” he admits. “It’s like being at a buffet.”

Shane rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you kiss me?” He says.

Ryan nods. “Good plan.”

Any snarky response Shane could’ve had is lost as Ryan kisses him. Shane’s lips are still sticky with gloss, and Ryan hums into the kiss.

“You taste like cherries,” he murmurs as he pulls back.

“ _Ryan_ ,” Shane whimpers.

“Sorry, sorry.” Ryan ducks and kisses Shane again. He licks at the seam of Shane’s lips and slips his tongue inside. Ryan brings a hand to cup Shane’s cheek, his thumb brushing over Shane’s face. He tilts Shane’s face as he pleases. The kiss deepens, and the glide of their tongues has Shane’s toes curling in the shoes, but Ryan pulls away far too soon.

“I swear to god,” Shane groans.

“Patience, baby girl, all in good time.”

The nickname does the trick, and even with the frustration burning in his gut, Shane melts into the bed. He spreads his arms across the bed and flushes as Ryan leans back to rake his gaze over Shane’s body.

“I want to get you naked and leave everything on, at the same time. It’s a problem.”

Shane laughs faintly but it morphs into a moan as Ryan slips a hand under his shirt. He tenses as Ryan’s hand skims over his waist, his hips, up to his chest.

“Oh, fuck, _Shane_ ,” Ryan hisses as he cups the small, lacy bra. He traces the edge that sits against Shane’s chest. He doesn't fill the cup at all but it fits in a way that almost makes it look like something is there. “I didn’t even—”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Shane whispers. He arches his back into Ryan’s touch. “Hence, the flowy blouse.”

“Fuck the blouse,” Ryan says. He pulls his hands from under the fabric and grips the hem. “Sit up, c’mon.” Shane obeys and lets Ryan practically tear the shirt off. Shane falls back on the bed, feeling exposed as Ryan zeros in on the bra. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get more perfect.” Ryan shakes his head, grinning, disbelief clear in his expression.

Shane sighs as Ryan falls forward to pepper kisses over his neck, his exposed collarbones, his shoulders. Ryan pauses long enough to suck a purple love bite into the ball of Shane’s shoulder then keeps going. He’s still fully dressed and the material of his slacks is just this side of rough against Shane’s thighs.

Ryan places a firm kiss to the plunge in Shane’s bra between his pecs. He laves his tongue over the slight dip in his chest then moves lower. He breezes his lips over the bottom edge of the bra, a tantalizing, barely-there touch.

He kisses a line down to Shane’s belly button, until he hits the waistband of his skirt. “How you doing, baby?”

Shane blinks and realizes his eyes had closed at some point. His chest is heaving slightly, and his cock is tenting his skirt. “I’m good,” he says, dazed.

“Good,” Ryan says with a laugh against Shane’s hip. He kisses the jut of bone and then he’s pushing Shane’s skirt up far enough to just barely expose the bulge of his sac in the black lace panties. Ryan whistles lowly, then swoops in to kiss the lace stretched over him. “So beautiful, babe. All mine.”

Shane nods and throws an arm over his eyes. “Yeah,” he agrees breathily. “All yours.”

Ryan grins against the inside of Shane’s thigh before he bites down. It’s hard enough to hurt, and Shane’s looking forward to pressing at the mark later, as a reminder of this. Just as quick as he started, Ryan lets go and works his way down Shane’s body. He stops long enough to kiss each of Shane’s knees. He kisses the knee cap, then the sensitive skin on the side before scooting down.

He should look stupid, Shane thinks; he watches, with a half-opened eye, as Ryan wriggles down the bed. He _does_ look kind of stupid, but maybe it’s the lust or the love or _whatever_ , but Shane’s never been this hard in his life. And that’s including the first time Ryan lifted him up, which is saying a lot.

“God,” Ryan whispers against his calf. He nuzzles against the soft skin; Shane had shaved, exfoliated, and moisturized—thanks to the LadyLike gals, who talked him through the steps earlier in the week—and even though it was a pain in his ass, it’s proving to be worth it now. The way Ryan is practically reverent as he rubs his face along Shane’s legs is heady, makes Shane dizzy with want.

Ryan’s kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed now, and he’s cupping Shane’s ankle gently. He kisses Shane’s ankle bone, then sits back. “You really do look incredible in these,” he says as he turns Shane’s foot from side to side. “Gorgeous.” Ryan’s stare is hungry, sure, and lustful; but there’s something deeper there, something sweet and deep and something Shane can’t quite identify.

Shane squirms. “Don’t tell me you have a foot fetish.”

“Shane,” Ryan says with a roll of his eyes. His voice takes on a teasing, nasally note. “Don’t deflect just because you’re too horny to think clearly.”

Shane whines. “You’re torturing me.”

“No,” Ryan says, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. “You’re just impatient, huh?” He leans over and kisses Shane’s other ankle. He rubs the skin along the edge of the heel. “But I’ll get a move on. You’ve been so good for me tonight. Getting all dressed up, just for me.”

Shane whimpers again. “It’s for me, too.”

Ryan smiles against his ankle. “I know,” he says earnestly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Shane’s heart melts in his chest. “Ryan, c’mon, come up here, please.”

Ryan scrambles to comply. Shane spreads his legs and Ryan slots between them easily. The motion pushes Shane’s skirt up further; it bunches around his waist and leaves his cock exposed, covered only by a thin layer of lace.

Ryan kisses him and lipgloss smears against Shane’s cheek as the kiss turns messy. “Love your legs, babe. They’re so fucking long and smooth.” Ryan kisses him chastely, then murmurs against his lips, “thought I was gonna come in my pants when you walked out of the bathroom.”

“Thought I was gonna blow when you lifted me up,” Shane counters.

“Yeah, but you’re _always_ about to nut when I do that.”

Shane slaps at his shoulder. “Dick.”

Ryan grins. He sits back and reaches over to the bedside table. He digs around for a moment before returning with the bottle of lube clenched in his hand. “Gonna finger you open and get you ready for my dick, is that okay, baby?”

Shane nods. “Yeah, _so_ okay.”

Ryan smiles at him again and then he’s sinking back down. He slicks up three fingers before tossing the lube aside, but before he reaches for Shane’s ass, he presses a single kiss to Shane’s shaft, over the lace.

Shane moans and drops a hand to Ryan’s hair. Ryan laps at his cock over the lace, and it’s a little scratchy, a little rough, but warm and wet and Shane can feel precome beading at the tip of his dick.

He startles as Ryan tugs the panties to one side underneath him, sliding two fingers between his cheeks. It’s a tight fit with the panties still restricting Shane’s cock, and he’s about to suggest they just take them off, because it doesn’t really seem worth the trouble, but then Ryan’s sliding one finger into him at the same moment he lavishes his tongue over Shane’s sac. Ryan can’t get his mouth around a testicle like this, but it’s still enough to have Shane shuddering.

“Pull your skirt up for me, babe, wanna play with your clit.” Ryan says it fluidly, easily, but his eyes dart up to Shane’s for just a second.

Shane complies with a wanton moan. He feels like his voice rattles the walls as he yanks the red and black fabric up to reveal his cock. It’s pressing at the waistband of the panties to the point of pain, but the sting is forgotten as Ryan’s lips curl around the head of his cock. He doesn’t bob his head, doesn’t suck, only runs his tongue in flat, broad strokes over the tip, over and over and over again.

Shane’s about to snap at him, driven crazy by the scant touch, when another finger slides into him and grazes his prostate along with the first. He hitches one leg over Ryan’s shoulder and it spreads him wider, makes it easier for Ryan to thrust two fingers into him at an almost bruising pace.

Ryan still suckles at his cock. He swallows to drink down the precome that’s leaking from the slit. Every few moments, he presses his tongue to the slit until Shane is shaking with pleasure. He drags his tongue over the sensitive spot just below the head of Shane’s cock at the same moment he presses a third finger into Shane.

It’s more of a stretch than the first two, and Shane gasps for air. “Oh, fuck, Ryan.”

“You doing okay?” Ryan asks. Shane looks down at him and watches as the string of spit and come that’s connecting his cock and Ryan’s lips snaps. Ryan’s mouth is wet and swollen, with spit dripping from the corner of his lips.

“Yes, Ryan, _fuck_.”

“Not yet, baby,” Ryan coos, and it sounds a little condescending but Shane’s too dizzy with pleasure to care. “You’re not quite ready for me.”

“I _am_ ,” Shane whines and rolls his hips against Ryan’s fingers to prove it. “C’mon, give it to me.”

Ryan hums. “I dunno, you’re still so _tight_ , I don’t think you’re ready.”

Shane keens in frustration. “If you don’t put your huge fucking cock in me in the next thirty seconds, I swear to _god_ —!” Shane’s cut off as two fingers slide into his mouth, effectively gagging him.

“Is that any way for a lady to talk?”

Shane stares at Ryan with wide eyes. Slowly, he shakes his head. It’s so abrupt, so sudden, but it’s so _perfect_. Sometimes, for all he teases Ryan, the guy really knows what to say and when. Not that Shane would ever tell him that, of course.

“No, it isn’t.” Ryan breaks into a lecherous grin. “But god damn, you look so pretty like that. Such a mouth on you.” He withdraws his fingers from Shane’s mouth but keeps fucking his ass open with his other three fingers. “Tell me what you want, Shane. Maybe I’ll give it to you.”

Shane inhales, exhales as a shuddering gasp. “I want your cock.”

Ryan nods, looking a little bored, but there’s a hint of a grin at the corners of his mouth.

Shane can feel his skin burning. It’s nothing he hasn’t already told Ryan a million times or more, but it never gets any easier. Maybe it’s the heels still on his feet or the skirt rucked up around his waist, but it’s even harder this time.

“You can do it, sweetheart,” Ryan says after a long beat of silence. “Just tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Shane starts. “I want you to split me open with your fucking cock and I want you so deep I can taste it.”

Ryan shivers and his fingers falter in their thrusts. “Yeah?”

Shane nods as his eyes flutter shut. “Yeah,” he half-moans, half-whispers. “Love your cock, Ryan. You’re so fucking big, I can feel it the next day, every fucking time.” There’s some rustling, and when Shane cracks an eye open, he watches Ryan yanking off his bowtie and trying to undo his shirt with only one hand.

Shane leans up, hissing as Ryan’s fingers move deeper inside him, and makes quick work of the Ryan’s buttons.

“Tell me more,” Ryan says. It’s almost a demand, heavy and commanding, and yet—if feels sort of like a plea, a reminder that Ryan is just as desperate as Shane.

Shane gets distracted for a moment by the sheen of sweat on Ryan’s chest. The shirt hangs open like curtains, exposing the chiseled lines of his abs and pectorals. Shane swallows to wet his dry mouth before he speaks. “You’re so thick,” he mumbles. “Feels like—every time, it feels like it’s not gonna fit, but it always does.”

Ryan groans and then his fingers are slipping from Shane’s ass with a wet sound. “Fuck, babe, I need to be inside you.”

Shane spreads his legs and holds them apart with hands on his thighs. “Do it, Ryan, _please_.”

Ryan shrugs out of the shirt and then he’s fumbling for the button and zip on his slacks. He shoves them down far enough, along with his briefs, to expose his cock. He shuffles forward, and Shane braces himself for Ryan to tip him back, for Ryan’s body to cover him, but it never comes.

He opens his eyes—when did he shut them? He doesn’t even remember—just as Ryan reaches for him. Ryan takes him by the hip, where his skirt is bunched up and messy, and then _lifts_.

Shane shrieks, he can admit it, but his cock pulses between their bodies. Ryan groans as he pulls Shane up and into his lap.

“Legs around my waist, babe,” Ryan says and Shane hurries to comply. “Arms on my shoulders.” Shane wraps around him tight and shivers as Ryan’s grip slides to his ass. He pulls the panties aside further and pulls Shane’s cheeks apart in the same moment. “Ready?”

“Fuck, Ryan, _please_.”

Ryan smirks against Shane’s neck. Slowly, he drops Shane down onto his cock. There’s a split second of resistance before the tip of his cock breaches the muscle and then it’s a slick slide until Ryan is in down to the hilt.

Shane throws his head back and shouts. “Fuck! Ryan, _shit_.”

Ryan stays stock still, but Shane can feel him shaking. Not from the effort it takes to hold him up, no—from the effort it takes to stay still, to not just fuck Shane’s ass with reckless abandon. “You feel so good,” Ryan mutters. “Can feel your heels on my ass, s’fucking hot.” The angle has his face pressed to Shane’s chest, hot breath skirting the edge of Shane’s bra.

Shane laughs. He doesn’t even have anything to say to that, so he just ducks his head and nudges at Ryan’s temple until the other man looks up. He kisses Ryan and it’s sloppy and lazy as they adjust to the feeling of each other’s bodies. Then, slowly, Ryan lifts Shane by the hips and drags him back down. Shane moans into the kiss and tries to get closer, kiss him harder, as if he could devour Ryan here and now.

“Easy, babe, easy,” Ryan says as he breaks the kiss. “Not going anywhere.”

Shane whines and presses his forehead to Ryan’s. “Need you,” he gasps.

“I know, baby girl, I know.” Ryan lifts him again and tugs him down slowly. “Just wanna take my time. You still look so pretty, I don’t want you to come until you’re a fucking mess.”

Shane shivers. He brings a hand to his cheek and wipes under his eye. His fingers come away tinged a little black, probably from smudged eyeliner. “Yeah,” he agrees.

Ryan smirks at him and keeps with his leisurely pace. He pushes his hips forward at the same time he drags Shane down, and it pushes his cock deeper into Shane’s body, harder. His dick grazes Shane’s prostate every other thrust and it’s maddening, because it’s _not enough_.

“Hold on tight,” Ryan says, and that’s all the warning Shane gets before his world is spinning. He clings to Ryan as they roll, ending with Ryan on his back and Shane perched in his lap.

Gravity forces Shane down further on Ryan’s cock, and the new angle has him feeling every inch of Ryan’s girth. He moans loudly and throws his bed back at the sudden sensation.

“That’s it,” Ryan says appreciatively. His hands squeeze Shane’s hips, not pushing or pulling, just a reassuring weight. He pushes up with his hips and Shane rides the motion, keenly aware of how Ryan doesn’t even have to struggle to lift him this way. It’s almost soothing, the undulation of his hips as they rise and fall, taking Shane along for the ride.

“You look so pretty like this, taking my cock.”

Shane moans. He leans forward and braces his hands on Ryan’s chest. “Ryan, _fuck me_ , for the love of god.”

Ryan’s hips sink back to the bed before he lifts Shane with his grip on his waist and pulls down him to meet a single, brutal thrust. “What was that? Didn’t sound very ladylike,” he says, with a wide grin.

Shane groans and wants to wipe the smug, shit-eating look off his lover’s face. But then Ryan lifts him again, drags him down on his cock like he weighs nothing, like Shane’s as light as a feather, and all the fight goes out of Shane. He digs his nails into Ryan’s chest, leans in close and whispers.

“ _Please_ ,” he hisses. “Fuck me with your stupidly huge cock, Ryan.”

Ryan laughs against his lips and nods. “You got it, babe.”

Shane wails as Ryan sets up a punishing pace. Even with the skirt separating them, Ryan’s grip on his hips is so tight it’ll surely leave bruises. Ryan yanks Shane up and slams him down and thrusts up to meet him every single time. It’s rough and fast and Shane cries out every single time he’s filled, clenches around Ryan’s cock desperately.

“My beautiful girl,” Ryan murmurs. “Look at you, taking it so good. Your pretty little hips fit in my hands so perfectly, baby. Could watch you like this forever.”

Shane tucks his face against Ryan’s neck to hide his blush, even though the heat radiating off his cheeks surely burns Ryan’s skin. The lace of his bra scrapes faintly over Ryan’s chest; they both shiver at the feeling.

“Your legs look so fucking good, too,” Ryan rambles. “So beautiful.” His touch turns gentle for a moment as he thumbs over Shane’s hips, and then it’s back to the same brutal pace. His words taper off and Shane can only make faint, garbled noises as the pleasure overwhelms him. The room fills with sounds of skin slapping on skin, and the scent of sex permeates the air.

Shane clenches down and digs his knees into the bed as Ryan thrusts up and shivers at the new sensation. He can feel Ryan’s dick twitch inside him, and Shane finally drops a hand between them. He shoves the lace aside to get at his own cock and strokes frantically.

“Yeah, good, that’s it,” Ryan says. He never falters in his thrusts but his breathing is growing labored, unsteady. “Let me see.”

Shane sits up with only a slight struggle, namely that his spine feels liquefied from the pleasure surging through him. He leans back and tugs his skirt out of the way so Ryan can watch his hand speeding over his cock. Precome slicks the way and adds to the cacophony of lewd, wet sounds in the room.

“God, Shane, you’re so fucking pretty. I want to see you come like this, come all over your cute skirt, babe.”

Shane shudders as he tips over the edge. He strokes himself as his cock starts to pulse in his hand; come spills over his fingers and onto his stomach, his skirt. He keeps going until it’s almost too much, until the oversensitivity is looming, and he clenches around Ryan one last time, tight like a vice.

Ryan lets out a wordless noise, one that sounds like it’s punched out of him, and he holds Shane hard enough to hurt. He slams his cock into Shane one last time and comes deep. Shane cries out at the feeling of wet, hot spurts filling him up. He rolls his hips against the feeling even as his body protests, and it wrings a few final groans from Ryan’s mouth, hanging open.

They come down slowly, and Shane’s teeth chatter for a moment as the sweat dries cold on his skin.

“Gimme a minute,” Ryan mumbles. “Then we can shower.”

Shane smiles down at him. He leans back and pulls his heels off, tossing them over the edge of the bed. “You can always join me later, if you’re too tired to move.”

“Was gonna carry you in there,” Ryan says. “Like a treat, for being a good girl.”

Shane swallows. “Oh. Okay then.”

Ryan grins. “C’mere, babe.”

Shane lays down on Ryan’s chest and meets him halfway for a kiss. “Thank you,” he says softly. Even though he practically towers over Ryan like this, he feels small and safe as Ryan’s arms wind around him.

“Of course.” Ryan shrugs. “Love you.”

Shane smiles to himself. “Love you too.”

They lay in silence for a few minutes; Ryan traces idle shapes over Shane’s back and Shane kisses at Ryan’s chest sweetly, slowly.

“I do think you should wear the heels to work sometime. Or maybe get, like, a work specific pair.”

Shane looks up. He’s sticky and cold and the come in his ass is starting to feel uncomfortable rather than sexy. “Would you be able to handle it?” He asks with a grin.

Ryan blinks. “Oh, shit.” Like the thought never even occurred to him. His face burns and Shane watches his eyes widen as, undoubtedly, a number of lewd scenarios come to mind.

Shane laughs, and laughs, and laughs until Ryan sits up and takes Shane with him.

It’s a fluid movement, if a little sluggish. His cock is soft and spent inside Shane, and there’s only a lingering warmth and intimacy in the connection of their bodies. Ryan’s arms go around his waist and hold him close as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He stands with Shane in his arms, and Shane pants down at him.

“Shower?” Ryan asks with another ear-to-ear grin.

“Yeah,” Shane says. Even though his legs are tired he still curls them around Ryan’s waist. He feels almost dainty with Ryan holding him place, feels _cute_ as exhaustion takes over his body and he relaxes in Ryan’s grasp.

“That’s my girl.”

Shane hides his smile against Ryan’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is from 'head over heels' by tears for fears.
> 
> if you enjoyed this, [reblog it on tumblr](http://punk-rock-yuppie.tumblr.com/post/177135504721/lost-in-admiration-could-i-need-you-this-much)!


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